Close Encounters of a Bracebridge Kind
by hrlo
Summary: Takes place on the night of the Bracebridge dinner. Explores an aspect of the episode hinted at (to my mind, at least) in the final scenes. One-parter.


Disclaimer: as usual, nothing's mine. 'cept the story.  
  
A/N: Takes place on the night of the Bracebridge Dinner.  
  
The cold chilled her under her skin, despite the presence of her mother next to her, and the well-warmed inn room they stayed in. It had been a perfectly lovely night--"big argument and ugly baby notwithstanding"--, yet there was something keeping her up, something nagging at the back of her mind that gave her no hope of rest.  
  
Sitting up as quietly as she could, she arose from the bed, hoping not to disturb her slumbering mother. She noted the time on the nearby clock--"3 a.m".--, and the still-empty bed that her grandmother was supposed to be resting in now. "I'll just go check on Grandma," she told herself as she slipped on her coat and slippers and snuck out the door.  
  
Padding down the wooden stairs, she hummed a tune softly to herself as she reached the main lobby of the inn. The table lamps were still on, as they'd been left, and there was no sign of her grandmother anywhere. A seed of worry beginning to grow in her heart, she began to turn to search in the dining room of the inn, when she heard a loud thump coming from beyond the main door.  
  
Stunned, she crept towards the windows by the front door, peering through the frosted glass, hoping to spot the source of that noise, and praying it wasn't something she should worry about.  
  
She could barely see anything beyond the winter darkness, especially with the reflection of the dim yet blinding desk lamps behind her. There seemed to be no one on the porch, yet she still glimpsed the slightest of motion beyond the steps of the Independence Inn, a dark figure furtively creeping about a distance away in the wee hours of a frigid winter night.  
  
She knew it was none of her business, and that she really ought to just have turned back and renewed her search for her grandmother--"after all, Grandma would still have enough sense about her not to go out on a night like this"--, yet she felt peculiarly compelled to further investigate. Wrapping her meagre coat around her as the sole protection against the freezing night, she carefully pried the door open, peering out into the night.  
  
The dark figure, holding an elongated object in his hand, faced away from her, striding purposefully towards the town square, and the carpet of white upon which the newly-erected statues stood for the night. "What's he doing?" she asked herself, although deep in her subconsciousness, she knew well enough who it was and what his intentions were.  
  
She scrambled out into the darkness after him, ignoring the blast of freezing air that assaulted her as she did so. "Jess!" she hissed, going no louder than she dared to. Still, the figure heard her voice, and the light that spilled out of the inn was sufficient to capture the vanishing look of mischief as it was replaced by one of concern, especially when he registered her pajama-ed and slippered form, hardly enough to protect her from the winter night.  
  
"What're you doing here?" he questioned, his voice a mixture of annoyance and care, like he was trying to intimidate the nerdy best friend who was about to rat him out to the school principal. "Well, it certainly is close enough."  
  
"What am I doing out here? What about you?" she shot back, wrapping her arms around herself, certainly not about to allow herself to be pushed around by the new bad boy of the town.  
  
"You're gonna freeze to death out here in that," his voice returning to its regular nonchalance, indicating her lone coat atop her PJs and her slipper- shod feet.  
  
"Why do you care what's going to happen to me? And you still haven't answered my question!" Her indignation was growing, as was the annoyance. "Now what's he up to?"  
  
"Well, I'm not exactly open to the option of standing over the frozen corpse of the town sweetheart when the sun rises," he wryly replied, the stance of his body clearly indicating that he was nowhere nearer to heading back into the inn before he completed his nightly mischief.  
  
Rory shrugged, with more than a little hint of a shiver, accepting his answer as she indicated the object in his hand. "Especially not with a murder weapon in your hands."  
  
Jess actually laughed as he looked down at the shovel he grasped in his gloved hand. "Well, gee, you found me out. Guess you'll be the one making the police report when that dead body shows up, eh?"  
  
Frustration welled up within her again as she bristled at the sarcasm in his voice. "Don't be stupid! Why do you want to do this anyway? What good is this going to do for you? You know the whole town will just hate you even more."  
  
If it stung, it certainly didn't show. Jess merely shrugged as he swung the shovel up in the air. "Least I'll get a good kick out of it."  
  
Rory was now shaking uncontrollably, although whether it was with anger or from the frigid night, Jess could not tell. She stared up at him, her huge blue eyes a mixture of irritation and begging. His hard, rebellious eyes softened at the sight of this poor girl freezing out in the winter night, and he took two steps towards her.  
  
"Look, Rory," he said, the tone now softer and more reasonable. "You know I'm still going to do it, no matter how long you stand out here. So why don't you just go back inside and head up to your warm bed, and just be as shocked as everyone else when you see it, okay?"  
  
The pleading disappeared from her eyes instantaneously, as unadulterated anger and indignation set in. "Fine! Go ahead, do it! See if I care! But if Luke gets in trouble again because of it--" She broke off, staring at him, unable to withstand the obstinate glint of his eyes. With a huff, she turned back, stomping back into the inn in her slippers, as Jess watched her go.  
  
* * *  
  
Rory awoke with a start. "How long have I been asleep?" She found herself slumped in the couch in the inn lobby, where she'd sat down after her argument with Jess, waiting for him to get back. A large khaki coat covered her now, and she recognised it from earlier in the evening. She smelled a fragrance in the air, and turned to see a mug of steaming coffee set upon the table next to the lamp. She took it up, noticing the note that had been placed under it, in that familiar writing. "For you," it read, followed by the firm instruction, "Now GO BACK TO BED."  
  
She held the card in wonderment, scenting the fragrant coffee in the mug. She breathed it all in, and took a gentle sip of the warm black liquid. Not what she was accustomed to, but still it tasted amazing. She had no idea why, but sitting alone in the inn lobby in the middle of the night, wrapped up in that coat and with those two items in her hand, she felt a warmth unrivalled by anything she'd ever felt, and her heart tingled in a manner that it had not done so in a very very long time. 


End file.
